On Love, Wholeness and Waking Up
“It is always the false that makes you suffer, the false desires and fears, the false values and ideas, the false relationships between people. Abandon the false and you are free of pain; truth makes happy, truth liberates.”
“You will know love when the mind is very still and free from its search for gratification and escapes.”
“We don’t teach them, we just remind them, when they are born, they know.”
“All problems arise out of the
mis-identification of oneself, a self created by this dysfunctional society in which we are born into. Out of fear and ignorance, we identify with the clouds of dysfunction instead of seeing that they are impermanent as mist. What you are is not that. Look within to discover the true nature of I am beyond all conditioning.”
“We are self-centered because in our society we are taught to do so. The small self is all that matters for that is what our society cares about. To compete against, to be divided, separate, to care about oneself without consideration for community or nature is our society’s way. This is a narrative taught into us. However, our truth lies in wholeness. We can question the narrative of our beliefs and shake the shackles of our thinking minds. Let the mind quiet, and there wholeness is.”
When all the trees have been cut down, when all the animals have been hunted, when all the waters are polluted, when all the air is unsafe to breathe, only then will you discover you cannot eat money”. Cree Prophecy
Caged Bird
BY MAYA ANGELOU
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
- Maya Angelou
“It is all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever.”
“One thing I’ve learned in the woods is that there is no such thing as random. Everything is steeped in meaning, colored by relationships, one thing with another.”
“If we are going to try and find our way back to nature’s principles, it would seem helpful to rediscover how animals live. The commandments recognized in the wilderness could be our lifeline to mental and emotional health.
”
Keeping Quiet
Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
“It is possible, I suppose,
that sometimes we will learn
everything there is to learn:
what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this
as I am crossing from one field
to another, in summer,
and the mockingbird is mocking me,
as one who either knows enough
already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing.
At my feet the white-petaled daisies
display the small suns of their center-piece-
their, if you don't mind my saying so- their hearts.
Of course I could be wrong,
perhaps their hearts are pale and narrow
and hidden in the roots. What do I know.
But this: it is heaven itself
to take what is given, to see what is plain;
what the sun lights up willingly;
for example-I think this as I reach down,
not to pick but merely to touch
the suitability of the field for the daisies,
and the daisies for the field.”
Mary Oliver